


Dark Enlightenment

by theway



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Jokes, Bigotry & Prejudice, Black Character(s), Blow Jobs, Body Modification, Crack, Demon Summoning, Demons, Dirty Talk, Erotica, Extremely Underage, F/M, Femdom, Feminist Themes, Firsts, Foot Jobs, Guns, Humor, Inflation, Internet, Interracial Relationship, Large Cock, Large Insertion, Lolicon, Loss of Virginity, Micropenis, Misogyny, One Shot, Oral Sex, Parody, Penis Size, Politics, Prolapse, Racism, Rimming, Rituals, Self-Esteem Issues, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slurs, Snark, Social Justice, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Bulging, Stomach Deformation, Succubi & Incubi, Throat Bulge, Underage Sex, Virginity, anal prolapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3548954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theway/pseuds/theway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle is a proud anarcho-capitalist race realist redpiller, but he is still a virgin. He finally finds a way to have sex with a woman on his favourite subreddit, but things get out of control when he tries it out. A shameless parody of /r/Anarcho_Capitalism, /r/DarkEnlightenment and Return of Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags imply, there are certain elements in this fic which may cause offense, even though they're played for shits and giggles. Take a look at the tags if you think it may cause you unease.
> 
> You have permission to share this fic in whichever community you want, including Reddit for free karma.
> 
> This work is an oneshot, so it won't receive updates. To receive notifications about new works and chapters, you can subscribe to [this RSS feed](https://vas.neocities.org/etc/ao3_works_feed.xml) or [my profile](/users/theway).

Kyle parked right outside the small Midwestern farmhouse he’d bought in 2010 from a recently evicted family of five after the real estate bubble had burst like a praxeologist’s theories. He’d gone out of his way to drive through dirt roads in order to give his truck a superficial look of roughness, trying desperately to look like a local instead of the San Francisco Bay IT support staffer that he was. 

The wooden building had a half-arsed coat of white paint over it, camouflaging the shoddy construction from an era where basic safety regulations weren’t a thing. It would probably collapse from the first hint of bad weather, but surely the private company responsible wouldn’t sink as low as skimping out on basic security precautions in order to maximise profit, considering five lives were at stake. 

Kyle had meant to use it as a store house for gold, then silver, then bitcoin, then litecoin, then Ron Paul newsletters. It all depended on which kind of artificially deflationary replacement for currency the online circlejerk hivemind would decide should replace the dollar, when it finally decided to collapse, any day now. It was all very confusing to him, what with lacking any economic education whatsoever, but he was at least sure that the great stabilising effects of central banking and money as a legal tender were a Jewish–Liberal media conspiracy to force atheistic Sharia law into the country. This certainly made him feel smarter than all the Nobel Prize-winning economists who disagreed with him. 

He got out of his truck and carried the heavy carton boxes inside the house. It smelled of dust and disuse inside, offending his fragile racial identity by reminding him of Detroit. He felt his heart rate increase as a panic attack crept up to him, but he quickly pushed the feeling back by looking down at his arms, whose clearly superior pale complexion acquired after endless hours of Reddit flame wars had not been ruined by the foul rays of the sun. 

Pulled back to the gentle embrace of material reality, he focused on his immediate goals: first, open up some windows to freshen the place up and reduce the risk of lung cancer; second, unpack all of this stuff; and third, find a good place on the floor where the satanic ritual circle could be drawn. 

It might sound weird to some that such a well-educated, intelligent, and powerfully masculine guy as Kyle was about to engage in an absurd religious practice, but he didn’t expect those plebeian moochers to understand the esoteric truth behind his actions. Most of the world, he knew, lived in a delusion manufactured by liberals, feminists, and statists, to the point where the natural truth of First Principles was forever lost to them. 

But it all became clear to him after a bad LSD trip and an equally bad run-in with an immigrant-nigger-thug-mugger-bitch-cunt-whore-slut. He later found out in a police report that she’d been a patriotic crossdressing male Klanner wearing blackface for Halloween, but that did nothing to change his conclusion. After all, paranoia felt about right, so obviously it was an accurate reflection of reality. 

He was casually browsing his favourite subreddit, whence he got all his relationship and masculinity advice. Unfortunately, with the world so deeply entrenched in sissified beta nonsense, none of the people around him could appreciate his Matrix references, so he unfortunately ended up wrecking all his relationships and repulsing every vagina-bearer he tried hitting on. But that didn’t stop him from swallowing the pill and growing ever more alpha every day. 

It was on that hallowed day that one of the regular posters, a PUA certified by reputable institutions like _Return of Kings_ , overflowing testosterone from every orifice—though mostly fingertips—posted his ultimate conclusion, his deepest realisation, one might say even his Final Solution. 

Most people instinctively know that women are bitches. That is common knowledge in the absence of feminist propaganda. What few people realise is that women are actually the source of all evil, and exist only to corrupt and torture men. “What does this remind you of?” argued the poster. When phrased like that, the conclusion was inexorable: women are demons. From this flawless deduction even Rothbard himself would be jealous of, followed a strategy to ascertain intercourse. Why, that was naught but trying to summon a demon. 

And that was how Kyle’s journey to the Midwest began. Having made all preparations, he was now ready to begin the ritual. First, he pulled out a paper cut-out of an alchemic circle that was totally not ripped off from the 2003 adaptation of Fullmetal Alchemist. He sprayed its shape on the wooden floor; in red, obviously. Then he set kindling on the fireplace and lit it up. 

Little by little, he began offering pieces of his former, beta self to the flames. It was only through this sacrifice that the inner leftist-commie-feminist agenda instilled into these objects could leave its material shackles and enter the spiritual realm. Then, he could transmute the concentrated sissiness back into the physical realm, manifesting the root of evil, i.e. a woman. 

First, he set fire to his soccer ball, because only European commies enjoy that sport. Then his copies of the Bioshock franchise, for daring to insult the great prophet Ayn Rand, peace be upon her. Then his Rage Against The Machine albums, because they thought nuking the barbaric muzzies was uncalled for. Then his hard disc drive filled to the brim with cute Japanese cartoons and comic books, because only faggots enjoy cute things that make you feel happy inside, not to mention the artists weren’t even white people. 

He kept going like that until the only things in his possession were his AR-15s, “anarcho”-capitalist flags, and 420 copies of Atlas Shrugged. Though he had destroyed everything he once loved and cherished, and had alienated every person who loved him, and had probably damaged his basic human empathy beyond repair, at least he felt a little bit manlier now. 

The smell of all the burning plastic was stifling, but he couldn’t be bothered over the smell of his own manhood. He turned back to his summoning circle, he knelt over it and uttered the magic words he learned in that Reddit thread: 

“Karékla. Antzoúgies. Tēganítēs. Ekroú me mple voúles.” 

This was most certainly not a random jumble of Greek words picked blindly out of a dictionary in an attempt to sound sophisticated and cool. Surely they meant something profound and philosophical. Random internet posts are nothing if not a bastion of philosophy and profoundness. Well, at any rate, all that mattered now was to focus on crystallising all that beta maleness that used to characterise him. 

All of a sudden, and though he was only a third of his way through the ritual, an explosion engulfed him. Initially, he thought that the hard drive he’d thrown to the flames had come back with a vengeance. But then he noticed the explosion hadn’t originated from that direction, but right in front of him, at the centre of the satanic summoning circle. 

Kyle coughed and tried to open his eyes, but the air had too much dark smoke to see, and his eyes stung every time he tried. Gradually, the mayhem cleared up, and the form of a bipedal creature floating in the air was visible. Large bat wings stretched behind it, and, raising its arms, it bellowed in a demonic voice: 

“Where’s the motherfucker who raped the Greek language?” 

“Holy shit, it worked!” Kyle exclaimed. Even though he was a devout believer in the Red Pill, even he had at least a semblance of a doubt over this ritual. The beta deep inside of him still clung onto liberal ideas, like scepticism and secularism. But enough of that. What mattered now was that he would finally get laid and check out his V-card. At last, he would teach women that what they truly want in their lives is a complete and utter douche—erm, macho man! 

The summoned creature flapped its wings, and cleared all the remaining smoke obscuring its presence. It was then that Kyle noticed the evil that had befallen him. His raging boner spontaneously transformed into a feature of shame, because while what lay before him was indeed a demonic female—redundant though that description was—it was a demon which had contributed absolutely nothing throughout human history, except living off welfare and running gangs. In other words, it was a nigger. 

The decision was both fast and easy. Kyle reached over to his trustworthy pair of AR-15s, and, dual wielding them, opened fire to the thug trespassing onto his property. “I am standing my ground!” he screamed, as both his guns—which were never to be referred to as _assault rifles_ —ra-ta-ta’d away. He felt the strength of Zimmerman encompass him, driving away such feeble feelings as guilt. “Die, negro scum! Die, in the name of Rothbard!” 

“Unholy shit, what the hell are you doing?” the demon said, this time with a more human pitch, raising a protective barrier around herself and deflecting the bullets. “What do you have against chairs, sardines, and pancakes, man?” 

Kyle stared at her in confusion. Unfortunately, he had ran out of ammo, his 100 bullet clips only lasting for so long against her womanly charms. 

“Uh, what?” he asked, standing upright to face her. 

The demon sized him up, her face distorted by disgust and bewilderment. “What’s up with your clothes? Your fashion sense could kill a zombie!” 

“Clearly, statist foreigners can’t recognise the colours of _freedom_!” he said, pointing at the toga he’d made out of his “anarcho”-capitalist “don’t tread on me” flag. 

“Dude, what century do you live in? This is _after_ the Civil Rights Act, right?” 

“Silence, feminazi! The Civil Rights Act is naught but the second war of northern aggression. It is people like you who have ruined this once great nation. Why, captains of industry can’t even contractually obligate niggers to pick up cotton while they’re non-aggressively raping their women and children any more!” 

“Oh, I get it now. You’re one of _those_ guys.” 

“You bet I am, slut. Now get out of my property and back to tumblr, where you—” 

“Taxes!” the demon yelled, and the shockwave of this catastrophe knocked Kyle back, all the way to the wall, and shattered both of his AR-15s. He knew the power of statism was formidable, but this was taking it to a whole ’nother level. 

The demon stood before him, looking down with an evil grin befitting the most heinous of oppressors, like Jesus, Gandhi, and Noam Chomsky. Her skin was darker than the thoughts which lead to Universal Healthcare and child employment legislation. Her afro hair was tied up in a beaded ponytail, and her head was filled with corn rows that were literally genociding the white race. She only wore a micro-bikini, because she probably couldn’t afford anything else after spending all her welfare cheques on iOS apps. Oh, also, she looked like she was, like, 8 years old, what with the flat washing board of a chest she had. 

“Wah!” Kyle exclaimed, as the toga displacing the dust around him made a distinctive _POMF_ sound. “What are we gonna do on the floor?” 

“What do you _expect_ to happen, Paulbot? You summoned a succubus, so now we’re going to have an intimate love-making session as per my contractual obligations.” 

Kyle felt like he was going to puke. “That’s impossible! I’d never agree to have sex with a nigger child! I have deduced my sexual preferences from first principles and have determined it is logically impossible to experience attraction to your kind.” 

“My form is that which will most satisfy your desires. I’m not at fault you’re so deep in the closet you mistook a lion for Jesus.” 

“That is absurd!” Kyle protested. “I don’t remember signing any contract, so obviously this exchange is null and void! In the name of Friedman, I banish y— _ouch_!” 

“Oh, shut up,” the succubus said, kicking Kyle in the balls. “I have way too many neckbeards on my to-do list, so let’s just get this over with, then we can both go our merry ways.” After torturing his genitals with it, she proceeded to get his makeshift excuse of a toga out of the way using her foot. With his thighs spread, she finally realised the source of his compensation syndrome. 

“Oh my,” she giggled. “I should have known when I saw not one, but _two_ assault rifles—” 

“They’re not assault ri— _fuck_!” 

“As I was saying,” the succubus continued, after getting the conversation under control with a decisive assault on Kyle’s testicles, “It looks like you’ve lost a couple inches for every gun you own. You know they’re made to kill people, and not as masturbation aid, right?” 

“What would you know, gun grabber? This is state violence! 1984! Remember, remember, the fifth of Nove— _Jesus_!” 

“Aww, it’s so cute! Look at this! It’s smaller than my toe. It’s deflated more than the Eurozone under austerity!” the succubus said, as she started rubbing her sole all over Kyle’s genitals. “But this won’t do. I’m afraid you’re a bit too deep into recession for me to have fun. I’ll have to inflate this motherfucker up!” 

“Inflation is _literally slavery_ , shill of Krugman! Back to the plantati— _ohhh_ …!” 

Though the strength of his ideas was formidable, Kyle had to postpone this particular diatribe, because, for the first time since that visit to the doctor twenty years ago, a woman was touching his privates; feet didn’t count. The succubus had knelt between his legs and was sucking on his micropenis. Some part of Kyle was disgusted that a mouth only useful for rap “music” was doing this to him, but it didn’t bother protesting lest her jaw clench down tight to deflate him further. 

Nevertheless, the orifice was pleasant regardless of its inferior exterior, and the hot moisture sent blood rushing down, enlarging his manhood by a negligible, almost pitiful amount. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for an AR-15 or two right now! And it may indeed have been these thoughts of weaponry that made him feel another surge of excitement. He felt a great pressure building up in his penis, as more and more blood flooded it. 

But, by Mises, the pressure wouldn’t stop. It might have been the nigger child’s skills, but the flow would simply not stop. He felt like he was going to explode, and then he felt his organ stretching inside of her, inflating like his savings every time Obama printed more money. 

“Ahhh!” he yelled, as his penis grew in the succubus’ mouth, in much the same way as his ego whenever he called someone a faggot in Call of Duty. Truly, the Red Pill had finally been metabolised, and now his dick had almost as many nanometres as his Reddit karma. Though he was now taking up a more respectable volume in the succubus’ mouth, the inflation kept going, as expected of FIAT currencies. 

The effects grew increasingly exaggerated, as his organ eventually became too large for the succubus’ mouth, and part of his shaft lay outside it, covered in her spit, even as more trailed down. This kept going for a couple of minutes, until his dick had grown to almost the length of a human arm, and about as thick. 

The succubus stopped sucking on him with a small popping sound. “Ahhh…,” she vocalised, as she breathed in fresh air. “Now this is a far more respectable size, don’t you think?” she said, putting the tip of her finger atop his urethra. “A solid foot of meat! If only ‘anarcho’-capitalists could build a road half as big.” 

“Heh,” Kyle smirked. “Typical Keynesian. You just don’t know when to stop. Why, with all of this—dare I say it?— _hyper_ inflation, there’s no way to consummate our contract. Legal tender has become your folly once again.” 

“You think so?” she smirked right back, then looked at his inflated phallus. Putting a finger on the tip, she had fun with how large a distance it could cover with even a small angle. “But as the currency inflates, so does the economy. Inflation is opportunity for the small and for the masses to grasp,” she said, wrapping both her hands around his shaft tightly, and licking her lips. 

“Enough with this heresy! The body is a temple, and you will defile mine with your urban ways no longer. Plebeians like you have no ambition; you’ve always had it easy with affirmative acti— _ohhh_ …!” 

The succubus returned to sucking his cock. It was rather impressive that she could manage his girth without hurting her jaw, but, then again, she had had plenty of practice wasting her food stamps thus. The poor thing, she probably never knew the utopic coercion-free liberty of growing up with only a TV for company as her parents worked 18 hours a day for a Big Mac apiece, her body gradually giving way to malnutrition, and her mind to ads of homoeopathic medicine that was practically tap water that no one dared criticising lest that give way to thoughts of government regulation and other statist scams. Niggers are biologically incapable of comprehending the nuances of liberty. 

“Give up, Zionist tool! You hold no power over me!” 

The succubus looked up at him and gave him a playful wink. True, her liberal argument production facility was warm and wet inside, but with just his head fitting in it—and barely at that—he had nothing to fear. Unfortunately, if there is one thing a true libertarian must learn, is to never doubt the depths a statist can sink to, and Kyle had simply not accumulated enough Austrian economics pages in his young brain to know better. 

Thus, to his surprise, the succubus managed to force more of his confederate flag hanging pole in her, deepthroating a full four inches of it before he reached the back of her throat. For a while, he was worried whether nigger saliva was extra rich in melanin as well, and whether that would affect his genuine 100% purebred American skin pigment, but then he realised a little kid was deepthroating his cock, which warranted a bit more attention than his raci— _race realism_. 

True, it was only, like, a third of his new and /r/TheRedPill™-approved penis, but the soft touch of her wet tongue was undeniably pleasant. So much did he enjoy it, that he even found within himself the great egalitarian principle justifying actually looking at her work, disgusted as he was by anything darker than the stars in a U.S. flag—the black of “anarcho”-capitalism didn’t count for reasons so intricate they couldn’t possibly fit in this humble parenthetical sentence. 

The succubus removed some of his shaft from her mouth, took in a breath of fresh air, then slowly sucked on it again. The sight of her shoving so much of his flesh inside of her tiny body and still having enough of it to grasp with both her hands was obscene. Almost as obscene as the thought of paying the wife you divorced some money so that the joblessness you forced her into upon marriage can’t coerce her into sucking your cock. The oppression of feminazi institutions is why men should go their own way! 

_Man, blowjobs from little kids are the best,_ thought Kyle each time he poked the back of her throat, but little did he know this wasn’t even her final form. She changed her stance and, using her infamous illegal alien powers, managed to fit another inch of his meat in her in her next motion. But this was no cheap anatomical trick, for the alien’s powers were well beyond nine thousand. With renewed fervour and much lubrication, she swallowed yet more inches of his grossly inflated ego—or rather, penis. 

Though the sight begged disbelief like a statist’s insistence the poor deserve not to be eaten alive by wild libertarian dogs in true social Darwinist fashion, a mere half a minute’s worth of shoving iterations later, the succubus had swallowed the entire foot of his cock, her lips now touching his pelvis.

“Rothbard’s uncoerced child sex slave markets!” exclaimed Kyle. It was not every day that one could experience penetrating the oesophagus and even stomach of a subhuman ape-child. Woes of potential bestiality briefly crossed his mind, but they were tossed aside like a bitcoin aficionado’s entire fortune to the sensation of the upper half of her digestive tract massaging his genitals, to say nothing of the tightness of her two sphincters. 

The succubus remained in that position for a while, and then quickly pulled out all the way, the ridiculous size of the insertion more apparent in its exit than entry. His penis was completely drenched in saliva and oesophageal lubricants, drops of it hitting the floor or trickled down his shaft and testicles. 

She inhaled deeply and cleaned some of the excess spit over her lips. “As you can see, I can be very _accepting_ ,” she said, smirking meaningfully. 

“That’s what every multiculturalist says in the beginning. But then when the dark-skinned barbarians come to defile their purity, they choke on their— _ohhh_ , yes, acceptance…” 

The succubus wasn’t one for conversation to begin with, but her tolerance for vapid neoreactionary buzzwords was being stretched to its limits. She was pretty sure her contractual obligations forbid her from, say, cutting his tongue out, or mind-raping him into a less wacky ideology, so she opted for the only way she knew of that instantly shut his trap: her womanly charms. Although perhaps in this particular case one might better describe them as _girlish charms_ , she also wasn’t one to judge the perversions social Darwinists hid beneath delusions of grandeur, even when they reduced her to, like, half her normal size. 

The way she consumed this pillar of society was as corporeal an example of the failings of the welfare state as there ever would be… whatever that meant. Performing oral sex on such a large organ while being so tiny herself was a bit of a strain on her back, as it required some quite exaggerated motions to draw a long enough arc. She fluctuated more than a cryptocurrency economy. 

Nevertheless, one couldn’t argue against results. What with this penile enhancement product that actually worked for a change, Kyle wasn’t expecting to experience stimulation on his entire shaft, which made it all the better. Even though he had inarguably praxxed that interracial sex is literally impossible using trustworthy InfoWars articles, he couldn’t help but take some joy out of her digestive system’s warm embrace. Though it wasn’t really its intended purpose, it sure did its best at clenching down on him. 

Kyle couldn’t really claim penetrating a little girl’s stomach was an everyday occurrence. Well, save for perhaps the poor souls performing gastric bypass on tween weighing more than a rhino, but even they didn’t carry out said penetration with their dicks. Probably. Not that such behaviour would be unwarranted if it didn’t contradict any intentionally obfuscated contractual legalese that was totally not signed under duress by a concerned parent. After all, if parents found casual sexual abuse on the surgical table in poor taste, the free market would magically re-align itself so as to accommodate their wishes. Like a genie! Except less Arabic, cause everyone knows Arabs hate liberty. 

Anyway, point was, Kyle was becoming quite the extreme penetration fan. He wasn’t sure which part appealed to him most: the warmth of her young throat, lubricated by her spit; the contrast between her small body and the hideously oversized organ that could somehow fit inside her; or the distortions in her neck, the not-so-subtle bulging of her flesh as his dick was repeatedly inserted. 

Though their resistance had been reduced by serial abuse, the succubus’ oesophageal sphincters still made some delightful protests at the enormous penis’ onslaught. The girl’s throat was trying to deny him entry, even as it caressed him sweetly. Excess spit found its way to his testicles and thighs, coating them in her bodily fluids, and loud splashing noises could be heard every time the air was pushed out of her to make room for his meat. 

The succubus had put her hands on his thighs, as leverage whenever pulled out. The beads of her straps clicked as they bumped into one other, swinging side by side from the velocity of her movements. She sped her pace up, trying to push Kyle closer to climax, her tongue tickling the underside of his pole, her throat embracing the rest. 

Kyle marvelled at how much material the little girl could get inside her, enjoying her mouthpussy, knowing he was fucking its deepest parts. Every time he penetrated her stomach, messing her breakfast up, he got a little bit more aroused, a little bit more excited, his own extreme bigotr— _race realism_ adding forbidden pleasure to the mix. 

With a solemn apology to Ron Paul, he reached out and put his hands on the evil dark-skinned illegal immigrant cotton worker’s throat, feeling it expand to accommodate his girth. He knew his great hero would frown upon touching the cancerous skin of a nigger, but he’d brought disinfectant with him, so it should even things out. In the meantime, he savoured her subhuman oesophagus, feeling the outline of his organ through her flesh. 

This stimulation was what finally brought Kyle to climax, as the succubus made a couple more motions, then stopped as the cock buried deep within her let out long bursts of semen, straight into her stomach. The succubus placed her fingers under his testicles, playing with them as he emptied his balls inside her underage stomach. 

When he was done orgasming in her belly, the succubus carefully removed his organ from her insides, not letting a single drop of his semen spill out of her. She licked every millimetre of his shaft as it exited her, collecting the excess fluids it had accumulated during the earlier pistoning. 

When at last the monstrous rod was outside, she ran her arm over her lips to clean her drool. “Well, well, well,” she said after inhaling deeply, as Kyle was heaving. “So much for your protests. In this moment, you are euphoric. Not because of any phony market’s blessing, but because you are enlightened by your statism.” 

Kyle was deeply offended by this butchering of a quintessential Nietzschean quote, and found in himself enough strength to push back against the fascism of unsolicited orgasms. He shoved the succubus with all the force of a carrot batonette hitting the floor. 

“Die, statist!” he yelled. “You don’t belong in this world!” 

The succubus stood upright and raised her hands behind her head, showing off her body, and specifically how little of it was covered by her microbikini. She decided to play his game. “It was not by my hand that I am once again given flesh. I was called here by Randroids who wish to get laid.” 

“Get laid?! You tax sovereign citizens’ property and give them legal rights!” 

“Perhaps the same could be said of all societies…,” the succubus replied, as she turned around to expose her supple bottom. 

“Your words are as empty as Fort Knox! Mankind ill needs an institution such as yours!” 

The succubus put her hands on her hips and knelt, removing her panties and then spinning them around with her index finger. “What is a man?” she asked, flinging her underwear on Kyle’s face. “A miserable little pile of wage slaves! But enough talk… have booty!” 

By the time Kyle had removed the undergarment from his face and was coughing out all the urban neurotoxins it was surely full of, he raised his eyes to find the succubus bending over and spreading her arse cheeks to reveal her lower body orifices, and specifically her gaping anus, which was wide enough for his fist to fit in without much trouble. 

“Well?” the succubus asked. “What do you think? I don’t often provide extra service free of charge, but for _speshul_ customers like you, I’m happy to make an exception.” 

“Never!” protested Kyle. “America’s booty obsession is a sign of social decline. A nation that worships arse is low class. Ayn Rand once wrote: ‘show me the woman a man sleeps with and I will show you his valuation of himself.’ Our nation is rocketing towards Gomorrah like a fat kid—” 

“Oh my Devil, will you ever learn to shut the fuck up and stop quoting Return of Kings articles?” the succubus snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

“Well, obviously, anal sex is gay, and homosexuality is degenerate. Do I look like a degenerate to you?” 

“You couldn’t signal more degeneracy if you stapled a blinking neon sign on your chest reading ‘100.1% HOMO’ and walked around town naked.” 

“Again with these statist lies! Your reverse psychology won’t work on me, CIA agent. I’ve heard all about you from Alex Jones!” 

“I don’t mean to question your faith to neoreactionary propagandists, but I doubt you pay half as much attention to their monologues as you do to my arsehole.” 

“Oh, no!” Kyle exclaimed, only now realising the folly of his instincts. Impossible as it was, he was once again getting erect, and from the sight of the most degenerate orifice of all, no less! Preposterous! His mind could make no sense of it; how could he possibly experience arousal after having praxxed the inferiority of the succubus’ charms out? A=A, therefore buggery was white genocide. Why was he feeling things? 

But no! His eyes wouldn’t listen to reason, and neither would his rod of power, for that matter. There was something… enticing about the succubus’ arsehole—one might even call it a _demonic allure_ —about the way her anus twitched, changing in radius as if it were breathing, and in the bright pink colour of her intestines, themselves convulsing periodically. 

Her colon made noises as her walls touched, a vacuum being created and broken. Intestinal lubricants were visibly sticking on them, making hanging strands on opposite ends of her waste pipe, some leaking out and trailing down to her underage, hairless vulva. Why was he feeling more interested in her arse instead of her unambiguously heterosexual pussy? Could it be that the LGBT movement’s chem trails had secretly infiltrated even his private thoughts? Where would it end? Would he feel a sudden urge to sing along Frozen’s _Let It Go_ instead of vomiting in masculine disgust? Would he change his desktop wallpaper to flower pictures instead of the Confederate flag? 

“Get on with it!” the succubus commanded, pressing her butt against his face. Her arsehole tasted bitter and reeked of sweat, and for a moment Kyle considered committing seppuku to repent for ever laying lips on a nigger’s bum. He called upon his great heroes for support—John Galt, Jefferson Davis, Ted Nugent, Adam Kokesh—but soon felt kinda gay thinking of them while sporting a raging boner. 

Though the little girl’s arsehole felt so bad, it also felt so good. It was like a forbidden pleasure, like he was reading Mein Kampf in secret all over again and nodding along in agreement. His tongue moved as if it had a mind of its own, entering the succubus’ debauched shit hole, feeling the warmth of her colon and tasting her lubricants. 

“Oh, how greedy you are for statist goods, like a neoliberal begging for bailouts after bankrupting his company!” she said, pressing harder against him. “To think you’d go straight for my pooper; gaaaaay! Didn’t they teach you which entrance belongs to a woman’s reproductive system in school? I didn’t know abstinence-only education approved of the rear end! Then again, judging from Republican toilets…” 

Kyle wanted to scream and protest, but he was too busy rimming the young girl to speak. How could she mistake him for a crony capitalist, and a Republican at that too! Sure, his ideology was the spawn of one-percenters looking for excuses to starve and enslave the lower classes, and he’d always voted Republican, but she didn’t understand. It didn’t matter that his actions were indistinguishable from an ultra-conservative theocrat’s, what mattered was that he identified as libertarian, and libertarianism is completely different from neo-reactionary social Darwinist fascist apologia. For starters, one wants to burn all the Jews, homos, and coloured folks in a furnace, and the other is content with letting them pick cotton for $0.01/hour. Liberty is so efficient! 

“Alright, enough licking,” the succubus said, lifting herself up from his face. “If you keep going like this, I’ll start growing mould in my damp and dark environment.” She looked back at him over her shoulder and winked. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think it’s time to wrap things up.” 

Kyle was trying to inhale clean, fresh air, and so he didn’t have the time for snark, even as the succubus spread her anus as wide as she could and began lowering herself down on his lap. 

“Ohhh…,” he cooed when his penis touched her entrance, feeling the soft folds of her intestines with his lower half. Then she lowered herself further, her poop chute gradually swallowing his head, then his shaft, inch after inch, as she was making cute sounds. Her progress slowed after about three inches’ worth, with Kyle figuring he’d reached the end of her colon. 

He wanted to say something snarky about not fitting inside her shitter fully, but then he realised he was going to be fucking a nigger in the arse either way, which was the gayest thing since showing compassion for people. Instead, he saw off his heterosexuality with a prayer: “So farewell liberty, and with liberty farewell markets. Farewell race realism; all red pills to me are lost. Statism, be thou my pi— _ohhh_ …!” 

And the succubus descended on his dick like bitcoin’s value every other day. He’d rearranged her guts and was now balls deep in the succubus’ large intestine, having shoved a foot of meat in her underage arse. 

“Don’t fret, Randroid. You’re better off without an ideology so fragile as to not endure even a little girl’s arsehole. Besides, look at this,” she said, grabbing his right hand and laying it against her her stomach. Kyle could immediately make out a bulge, the sign of his penetration. “Do you feel it? It’s probably deeper than the ‘nuance’ in all mises.org classes combined!” 

Kyle couldn’t think any more; his mind had come to a standstill. He felt like he’d been raped out of everything he held holy and sacred, and by a little black girl hardly half his height at that. All these years of liberation had been undone by the power of coitus. 

The succubus moved forward, removing the dick she’d impaled herself with from her arsehole, until only the tip was left, and then pressed back on his grown again. It was amazing to see her extract twelve inches of dick from her butt, almost half of her torso in length and as wide as her arm. Her anal sphincter clung to his skin tightly, prolapsing ever so slightly as he’d pulled out and then getting back into place when her arse cheeks touched his groin again. 

She repeated her movements, sitting up and down, shoving his meat inside of her, picking up a pace. She felt so warm and wet inside, and so incredibly tight, far tighter than his palm. He could hear her juices mixing whenever he penetrated her, evidence of how much material was getting in and out. A lot of it clung on his shaft as well, which was now glistening in her rear entrance’s lubricants. 

His hand remained on her stomach, and its shape became deformed whenever she had his full length in her. It seemed impossible that such a petite girl could take so much inside her, but there it was, it was happening, and the nastiness of shoving this much meat in her young arsepussy felt amazing. 

“What’s it like, Kyle? Do you like being in my little shitbox? Do you like black arse? Or is it cause I’m a little girl? Which is more arousing, race mixing or child abuse?” the succubus teased. 

She increased her rhythm, starting to get visibly aroused herself. Her guts spread wide with his every insertion, trying to close down and go back to an appropriate size when he exited, but being forced apart again soon after with little resistance. Kyle tried not to listen to what she was saying, instead focusing on his surroundings, and specifically the gigantic pole going in her arse. 

“You know that’s where I poop from, right? That’s not where you should put it in. Mammals don’t reproduce this way,” she said with an almost musical tone. “What would your ancestors think to see you fucking a defenceless little girl in her butt hole? It’s so dirty and unhygienic in there! Almost as shitty as Stefan Molyneux’s meta-ethics, teehee!” 

He didn’t have much willpower to think about the history of his enslavement right now, as he was mostly focused on the stimulus on his cock. The succubus’ bowels were stroking his shaft and clenching down on him like a white policeman’s choke hold on an innocent black guy. That a nigger could ever be called _innocent_ was proof of the liberal faggotry that had seduced him, Kyle noticed. 

Death by asphyxiation notwithstanding, Kyle couldn’t get enough of the succubus’ young insides, and the depravity of pushing her shit in. The deformation of her stomach, the inhuman size of the penetration abusing her shit hole, and the overwhelming sensation of doing something that he ought not to were bringing him closer and closer to climax, something which didn’t go unnoticed by her. She was frantically moving her hips now, engorging his penis in her arse as deeply and rapidly as she could, her anus barely capable of taking the punishment. 

“Yes, Kyle!” she yelled. “Come inside me! Waste your seed inside my poop chute! Let all your offspring die in my intestines like the degenerate you are!” 

Kyle couldn’t hold back any more. There were way too many corny porn lines in his general vicinity to resist. He put both of his hands on the succubus’ buttocks, even as she stopped pistoning her hips, and with a raging scream of “Welfare!” he unleashed his jism inside the exit end of her digestive system, and perhaps a fragment of his soul. 

The succubus collapsed on the floor, his penis exiting her arsehole with a pop. Her anus was gaping wide, red from the stimulus, her intestines collapsing into themselves and prolapsing out for an inch or so. White semen mixed with intestinal fluids was dripping out of her like a small fountain. 

Slowly, she put her breathing under control and picked herself up, looking down on the shell of a Randroid she had the misfortune to fuck. 

“Next time, don’t set the empathy to zero,” she said, conjuring a business card out of thin air and throwing it in Kyle’s general direction. The succubus batted her wings, floating in the air, and disappeared in dark flames, leaving Kyle alone to read her last gift: 

_therapists.psychologytoday.com - Find detailed professional listings for Psychologists, Psychiatrists, Therapists, Counsellors, Group Therapy and Treatment Centres in the United States and Canada._


End file.
